


Inquiring Minds

by fadedink



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-02
Updated: 2004-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquiring Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Because pottymouth!Orlando insisted on having his say. For the lovely & talented [](http://acari.livejournal.com/profile)[**acari**](http://acari.livejournal.com/) in honor of her birthday. So sorry it's late, darling!

_  
**FIC: "Inquiring Minds" - 1/1, R (HS/OB), LoTRiPS**  
_  
Title: Inquiring Minds  
Author: Jo (jo@fadedink.com)  
Pairing: Harry Sinclair/Orlando Bloom  
Rating: R  
Summary: Harry wants.  
Disclaimer: Nope, never happened. And if you think it did, well...I suggest you go look up the word "fiction" in the nearest dictionary.  
Archive: Faded Ink, all others ask first.  
Author's Notes: Because pottymouth!Orlando insisted on having his say. For the lovely & talented [](http://acari.livejournal.com/profile)[**acari**](http://acari.livejournal.com/) in honor of her birthday. So sorry it's late, darling!

  
  
 _You don't know me now,  
I kinda thought that you should some how_  
\- Matchbox 20

Harry sat in the back booth of the pub, newspaper spread across the table in front of him. His glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose; his fingers fumbled with a package of peanuts that refused to open. He was paying absolutely no attention to anything (or anyone) around him.

In short, Harry was oblivious. Again. Which is why he didn't see Orlando before Orlando slid into the other side of the booth.

"So Karl tells me you're wanting to know what it's like to fuck me."

Peanuts went flying as the foil gave way under Harry's spasming fingers. His head snapped up, and his eyes met Orlando's. And, yes, Orlando's eyes were full of wicked glee, and his smile was positively sinful.

Harry debated, for half a second, denying the claim. Decided it wasn't worth the effort. Besides, it wasn't like Orlando was going to believe a denial. Not with the way he was grinning.

So Harry cleared his throat and managed a tentative smile. "Told you that, did he?"

"Uh huh." Orlando was still grinning. Brat. Harry just knew the kid was enjoying this entirely too much.

"And you believed him." One finger pushed his glasses back up to their proper place so Harry could peer at Orlando.

"Yep." Orlando nodded. And grinned. That grin should _not_ be doing the things it was doing to Harry's lower anatomy.

"You know he tells the worst lies."

"Yeah, but I've seen you," Orlando said as he leaned forward.

Harry's eyes were drawn to tanned forearms and calloused fingertips where they rested on the scarred wood. "Seen me?"

One finger traced a circle on the table. Harry followed it. Then it tapped twice. Odd little habit that Orlando had. "Watching me."

"Um...what?" Harry blinked, looked up. Met Orlando's smiling gaze again.

"I've seen you watching me," Orlando repeated, voice dropping. And the timbre of his voice sends a shiver up Harry's spine. But he still tried to play it cool. Damned if he was going to let this kid see him sweat.

"Have you?" he murmured. "Watching you how?"

Orlando smiled as he leaned even further forward until he was half-lying on the table. "Like you're starving, and I'm the appetizer, main course, and dessert all rolled into one," he said, eyes locked with Harry's. "Like you want to bend me over the nearest flat surface and fuck me 'til I can't walk."

So much for not letting Orlando see him sweat. "I, um...I do."

Oh, God. Had he _really_ just said that? He had. OhGodohGod.

"Well, then," Orlando said, tilting his head so he looked up at Harry through his lashes. "Would you like me to _tell_ you what it's like to fuck me, or...." He paused to run his tongue over his lower lip. "Let you find out for yourself?"

"Um." Harry swallowed. The look in Orlando's eyes, combined with the words tumbling from his lips, was lethal. It had Harry's dick awake and begging to come out and play. And, for once, Harry's brain seemed to have deserted him, because he was damned if he could think of a single thing to say. "I, um."

"Tell you what," Orlando murmured as he settled back into his seat, "why don't I tell you, then you can find out for yourself." Knowing eyes watched Harry, intensity burning in their dark depths.

"I, well, um," Harry began, still without a clue of what to say. "I-I suppose that would work."

"You sure? Because you seem a little nervous."

"No, no." Liar. He _was_ nervous. "That's a good idea. Tell, then show." He nodded as decisively as he thought was able.

"Okay, then. Well," Orlando said as he settled in, sprawling a bit in the booth, knees bumping up against Harry's. "First off, it's messy."

"Messy?" Harry's forehead wrinkled as he peered across the table.

"Lots of lube," Orlando said, grinning hugely at Harry's expression. "I like that slow, slick glide into my partner. Or him into me. And lots of sweat. If we're not both sweating, it's not worth it."

"I...see." Another swallow, this one almost audible. Jesus Christ. The kid was trying to kill him.

"And definitely lots of come." The grin curving Orlando's lips now was feral, and he reached across the table to catch Harry's wrist. "Being covered in my partner's come, having him covered in mine...such a fucking turn-on."

That was it. Harry was dead. Absolutely, utterly, completely dead. Except for his dick. It was most assuredly awake and so hard it hurt. And Harry's mind had turned from images of Orlando naked to trying to figure out the quickest way to somewhere private so he could start enacting all of Orlando's prurient fantasies.

He hoped that Orlando wasn't expecting a reply. Because he damn sure didn't have one. In fact, he didn't think he was capable of making one.

"I like to suck him off first, too." Orlando's voice dropped, wrapping Harry in an air of intimacy that had him aching to drag Orlando across the table.

"Y-yeah?" Harry's voice was breathless, his throat dry. He didn't think he could possibly get any harder. Walking out of the pub was going to be an accomplishment of miraculous proportions.

"Mmhmm," Orlando murmured, thumb rubbing over the pulse in Harry's wrist. "Love having his cock in my mouth, heavy on my tongue, choking me until I don't think I can breathe. I like to take my time, licking and sucking along the length, over his balls, all of it. Then, right before he comes, I like to pop it out of my mouth so he comes on my face and chest."

Harry made an incoherent sound. It was remarkably similar to the sound one might make when swallowing one's tongue. The very image of Orlando on his knees, face glistening with come as those wide brown eyes looked up....

"Sometimes that's enough to make me come by itself," Orlando continued. Harry shifted in his seat, stopped when Orlando looked at him. "I like to hold off, though. Like to suck him off, then fuck him nice and slow. Love it when my fingers bruise his hips while I'm buried deep inside him."

Harry fleetingly wondered if it was possible to get into Heaven if you died with a hard-on while the object of your sexual fantasies talked dirty to you. Somehow, he doubted it. Saint Peter would probably frown on that.

"Then comes the best part," Orlando said with a wicked grin.

"B-best part?" Harry didn't think he'd survive everything Orlando had described up that point, let alone anything better.

"After all that," Orlando said, leaning across the table, gesturing for Harry to get closer. "That's when I like for him to fuck me."

"Yeah?" A shudder rippled up Harry's spine, and, for a split second, he didn’t think he was going to be able to control himself.

Orlando nodded. "Yeah. Gets me hot just thinking about being on my hands and knees while you fuck me hard enough to leave bruises, hard enough I have trouble walking the next day."

It took several seconds for Harry's befuddled (and incredibly pornographic) brain to register the shift in Orlando's words. It was no longer "him." It was now "you." Harry. He blinked several times, resisted the urge to rub fogged glasses, then focused on Orlando.

"So," he said, dragging the word out as he studied Orlando through narrowed eyes. "You're wanting to not walk tomorrow."

"Well, I don't have anything planned." Orlando shrugged, didn't flinch from Harry's gaze.

"Be careful what you wish for, Orlando," Harry murmured, twisting his hand to capture Orlando's wrist. Kid thought he was being so clever now that Karl had planted this idea in his head, but he didn't have the first fucking clue. "Did Karl not mention that he knows what it's like to fuck _me_?"

"Yeah," Orlando breathed, eyes locked with Harry's. "Said it's hard and intense and dirty."

"Just like you like it."

"Yeah."

"Then why are we still sitting in this booth?" Harry's eyes raked all of Orlando's body that he could see. It pleased him to note that Orlando was nowhere near as unaffected as he'd been pretending -- the flush staining his cheeks, the dilated pupils, the way he'd started to restlessly shift in his seat. They all gave him away.

"Because you haven't dragged me off yet."

"Consider yourself dragged." With those words, Harry slid from the booth, pulled Orlando with him. Good thing Orlando didn't resist. Because Harry planned on giving him _everything_ that he'd been asking for.

\- written July 2, 2004


End file.
